Shadowed Destiny
by ScarredMember
Summary: When a priestly order is angered by the past actions of a magical order, war breaks out between the two superpowers of the Second Age. Amon is just a pawn within the war for the Scarred Order. When the tide turned in favor of religion, a last stance must be made to protect the knowledge of the Order. When things get out of hand, Amon finds himself in a place where he least expects.
1. Chapter 1

" _Children require guidance and sympathy far more than instruction." – Anne Sullivan_

She stared into his eyes intently as if she were never going to see another pair again. She had mahogany eyes while he had moonlight eyes, each shining in the light coming from the windows in the decorated family room. Neither one of them blinked as they focused on the other's eyes. They did not break their gaze as the two adult men walked into the room.

"Look, all I'm saying is that he's the only one that I have left. He needs some sort of protection," Jacob insisted. "You don't even have to teach him anything."

Exodus sighed slightly, "That's not how it works. Yes, we're a large Order, but we just don't take refugees." The Magic-User glanced over at the children. "He has potential to learn about the arts from what you have given me of his character. That will ensure his stay."

Jacob studied his son for a brief moment before letting Exodus see a small smile.

"He could be of use if he does comply," Jacob said with a small laugh. "He has some…other skills…that could be enhanced with the arts."

The elder Magic-User master raised an eyebrow at Jacob's passing thought, but did not question it. He had come across many secrets in his life. He also knew that people were none to revealing of those secrets, especially if it put close relationships on the line. He also knew that many secrets had a way of revealing themselves if left untested or untrained.

"Promise me one thing, old friend," Jacob said solemnly.

Exodus held his breath for a moment.

"Make sure to guide Amon through life as your own," Jacob whispered.

The Mage master observed the two young children again. His apprentice was staring hard into Amon's eyes as if she were trying to control him through a sheer force of will. Amon stared right back, never faltering his gaze.

Exodus felt something inside of him turn as he watched them both together. It was as if they were truly his even if they were not. It was a different feeling than what he was used to, that Exodus knew.

"Of course," Exodus said with a small reassuring smile.

Jacob took a steadying breath.

"He will be in great care, yet it will be difficult for him," Exodus placed a hand on Jacob's shoulder.

The Mage stared hard into the Duke's eyes.

"Go," Jacob demanded.

Exodus searched Jacob's eyes only to find tears being held back. Exodus nodded and looked over to the children. "Fey," he called softly. The girl slowly took her eyes off of her new found friend. "Take Amon and go to the carriage."

Fey gave a small nod, stood up, and offered her hand to the boy. Exodus watched as Amon stared at the hand, unsure if he should take it. A moment later, he had decided that it was okay and stood with Fey's help.

Exodus watched as the children went out the door. He turned back to Jacob who had let the tears stream down his face as the children left.

"You could say goodbye," Exodus spoke softly.

Jacob held back a sob, "Then it would be permanent."

Exodus did not say anything. He could not, not after that statement. Truth be told, being in the Scarred Order meant a permanent place in the Order. There was no going back to one's old life. Exodus knew that better than most Scarred Mages.

The master Mage turned slowly towards the door. He got halfway between the door and Jacob and stopped suddenly.

"Sargon has told me that Amon is destined for a balance than no other can strive for. Exodus hung his head. "However much I do believe in this…destiny, I believe that Amon is a son between the two of us. He is as much of mine as he is yours, dear friend. And I will not let anything happen to him as long as I breathe and you are hopeful."

Jacob stared hard at Exodus before softening his gaze.

"Thank you, old friend," the Duke finally said.

Both men gave a brief nod at one another. Only one of them knowing that they would never see one another again. Only one knew that the child would never return home. Only one knowing that this was a permanence that must be done for the good of all involved.


	2. Chapter 2

9 Years Later…

At sixteen years old, Amon knew that he came from noble bearings. No one could touch him, or so he thought. Truth be told, the other apprentices could approach him and treat him as if he were on their level. Yet, Amon kept up his nobility image, off-putting most of the others. Nobility made him feel guarded amongst his fellow apprentices.

Fey was the only one out of all the other apprentices that kept Amon sane. She was his best friend, his sister so to speak. With her, Amon did not feel the others around him. He did not feel the stares at him with her next to him.

"Blink and you're dead." Fey's voice rang out like a bell.

Amon mentally shook the thoughts out of his head.

 _Don't blink. Don't blink._ The words echoed in his head. They echoed like they would have out loud in the empty mess hall of the main building.

Amon felt a hand on his shoulder. It set off several alarms in his head. He brought up his hand to the unknown hand. Amon twisted around while twisting the hand and faced the owner of the hand. Amon brought up his other hand to the unknown's face and brought him down on the table that Amon was sitting at with Fey.

"Hey!" The owner of the unknown hand was Apprentice Gareth. Gareth's eyes were wide and terror played at the edges of his irises.

Amon realized what he had done and released Gareth.

Gareth slowly sat up and stared at Amon, "How'd you do that?" Gareth's voice was full of wonderment while his terror slowly subsided.

"I-I don't know," Amon said as he looked at his hands in shock.

"Whatever it was, it was really unique," Gareth was overjoyed with the new discovery. "We should try and advance it so it could be better."

Amon glared at the overzealous apprentice. "It _wasn't_ a spell," the noble spat.

Gareth looked taken aback.

"It was something…different," Amon said evenly.

Fey watched Amon try to comprehend what he just did. She could not imagine the turmoil that he was facing.

Gareth spoke up, "Why don't we go to the library? It might hold some clues." Gareth shrugged at the suggestion.

Fey gave a wide smile, "Or maybe Master Tarheel would be able to tell us!"

Amon stood in place as the other two made their way to the wooden gates of the mess hall. He was sure that neither one of them understood that this was not a spell. It was something different. He remembered his father teaching him certain things…things like what he just did.

The young noble apprentice shook his head before following Gareth and Fey.

The trio headed out the open gates of the Order Complex. Several guards watched them go out and disappear down the road. The trio continued their way to the library in silence. Not one word was said to give any sign of thought.

It felt like an eternity had passed when the trio final arrived at the library. All they had seen were trees, dirt, and rocks from the surrounding forest. They now stood in front of an ornate building meant to impress all that came upon it. It was also meant to instill humbleness upon the Mages who visited the library and it's Master.

Amon down casted his eyes from the building as he heard Fey mumble a prayer to Sargon.

"I don't think I'll ever look at a library again," Gareth murmured.

"If we don't come out, you won't have to," Amon stated. Amon felt Gareth's glare burn into the back of his neck. Amon smirked.

"Boys," Fey rolled her eyes as she led them down the stairs.

She stopped abruptly at a teeing entrance. There was a corridor to the left of the trio and to the right.

"Which way?" Gareth whispered. His voice echoed against the stone walls.

Amon peered down both corridors to see if he could notice any doors or out of place items that could give them a clue. There were torches down the right corridor, but nothing else of interest. To the left, Amon noticed a faint glow of purple that was definitely not torch light.

Amon began to move towards the left.

Fey shrugged, "Guess we go left." Gareth gulped as he followed both Amon and Fey.

Amon led the trio through the corridor silently as to not give off any alarms that there was someone approaching. His footsteps fell silently on the stone floor as they approached the soft purple glow.

As the glow grew slightly brighter, the torches began to go outward down a great hall. In front of the trio were two large ornate wooden doors. Next to the doors was the soft purple glow that peeked Amon's curiosity.

The purple hue belonged to a medium statue-sized illusion of a dragon standing above a tall man in robes. The man's lips moved as he spewed out an unthoughtful statement towards the dragon. A clawed talon then swooped down at the man, hitting him the face. At a closer look, one could clearly see the three scars on the man from head to body to lower abdomen.

Amon frowned slightly at the illusion as Fey and Gareth gave a shudder.

Footsteps echoed through the corridors, bringing Amon out of his dazed state from the illusion. He swiveled his head around to see if he could see anyone coming.

Amon turned to Fey and Gareth. He brought a finger up to his mouth to indicate that they should be silent. He then motioned for the two of them to follow his lead. He crept around to the other side of the illusion, away from where he thought the footsteps were coming from. Amon crouched down in the shadows as Fey and Gareth followed suit. Only Amon's moonlight eyes peered from the shadows to be sure that they were safe.

 _ **Tarheel?**_ Fey mouthed.

Amon shook his head. He peered around the corner of the illusion to see a cloaked figure walking up from the left corridor.

The cloaked figure looked bulky as if he were wearing armor underneath. There was a medium sized object that swung parallel to his body.

 _Some kind of weapon, no doubt_ , Amon thought. He squinted his eyes to see if he could get anything else from the cloaked figure.

Nothing.

Amon took notice of a jeweled ankh on a simple rope in front of the figure. The ankh itself was a golden orange, almost like a sunrise or sunset. The jewels were shades of blue. Amon's eyes widened with realization.

Amon quickly pulled himself back behind the illusion statute. He looked at Fey and Gareth who were utterly confused at Amon's urgency. Amon shook his head and then placed a finger to his lips.

Amon listened carefully as the figure's footsteps approached the wooden doors to the library. He heard the figure hum in thought. Amon knew that the figure was trying to look for a way in. There was a tapping sound on wood that echoed through the vast great hall.

Silence erupted once again.

Gareth placed a hand over his mouth to keep his breathing from echoing.

Fey's eyes were wide as she tried to focus on the sounds that the cloaked figure might make.

Amon closed his eyes and concentrated on controlling his breathing and listening to what moves the figure might make next.

Sure enough, after a few moments of waiting, the trio heard the figure's footsteps fade back further into the corridors away from them. All three apprentices gave a sigh of relief.

Amon motioned for the other two to follow him out.


	3. Chapter 3

Exodus impatiently tapped his foot.

It would be unwise to say that he was not mad – in fact, he was furious with Amon and Fey. However, it would be more appropriate to say that Exodus was merely disappointed in their decision. They knew the library was off limits to any apprentice who did not travel outside of the Order. Yet, they chose to go anyway.

Exodus stopped pacing and gave a sigh.

"What am I going to do with those two?" he wondered out loud.

He heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Exodus whirled around to find not just Fey and Amon, but Gareth too. Now was the moment to call Exodus furious.

"What were you two _thinking_?" Exodus's voice wavered with the anger that he felt.

Amon froze, causing Fey and Gareth to almost knock him over from the sudden stop.

"Going into the library without telling anyone!" Exodus began to pace in frustration. "Something could have killed you on the way and no one would even notice," Exodus's voice was firm.

Fey looked down at the ground as Gareth shuffled his feet. Amon, however, stood his ground, his moonlight eyes glared straight into Exodus's amber ones.

"Nothing happened," Amon said steadily. "I had it handled." His voice held an edge to it, challenging Exodus.

The master Mage glared at Amon, unmoving in his stance on the matter.

For a few moments, they held each other's gazes. Amon shot his eyes down the ground. His challenge beaten.

Exodus's glare softened. "Let's go back, shall we?" He began to walk up the path leading to the fortress they called home.

Gareth gave a swift nod, "It'd be better than going back there." He pushed past Fey and Amon. "It's crawling with priests," Gareth gave a shudder.

Exodus stopped and pulled on the back of Gareth's robes to stop him short. "Excuse me?" he asked deeply.

"I don't wanna go back in there," Gareth whimpered unsure of what Exodus was referring to. The master Mage scowled and squinted his eyes. "There are priests in there?" Gareth tried again.

"What kind of ankh?" Exodus asked darkly.

"Sun colored with blue gems," Amon said, not wanting to witness the unintentional murder of a fellow apprentice. "Why?"

Exodus grumbled under his breath, walking faster. The three apprentices followed suit. Each one growing more concerned with each step they took. Exodus was not one to not answer a question or worry about something so divine.

Exodus glanced back over his shoulders every once in a while to be sure that they were not being followed. He was sure that the apprentices could see the worry in his eyes. What he did know was that they were not sure as to where it was coming from.

Upon reaching the fortress, Exodus turned to two guards.

"Make sure that these three get back to their studies," the master Mage said, giving each apprentice a stern look.

"Yessir," the guards saluted and ushered the three students away quickly.

Exodus went in the opposite direction to the main building. He went up the stairs and made his way to the meeting hall.

A council awaited inside. They were mostly cloaked, but once could still see the scars running from the top left to the bottom right of their faces. Exodus stood in front of the council, gaining their attention.

"The Duke was right," he said simply.

"About what?" a woman spoke up. Her voice was cold and steely, the edge of it cutting like a sword through the air and into the receiver.

"The Solians," Exodus said, getting uncomfortable. "They're making their move. Some apprentices saw one in the library."

"That's impossible," another spoke up. He was confident almost to the point of arrogance.

"Impossible? Then explain to me how one was spotted," Exodus looked at each member of the council. "In _our_ library."

The council members looked at one another. Not one of them giving away what they were thinking.

"We do not see how this applies to us. The Solians have been slow at showing their move," the calculating woman said.

Exodus threw her a glare. "My apprentices _saw_ one in the _library_. Don't tell me that the Solians have been slow at showing their hand," he was becoming irritated with the conversation. "Do you not see? They are after our knowledge of the arts."

"And if they aren't, Master Exodus?" the arrogant man spoke.

"If they aren't, I'll have my mastership reprimanded and my students handed to someone else more capable," Exodus said coldly.

The calculating woman seemed to smile, "Very well. We shall see if the Solians are in our _well protected_ library."

Exodus scowled as he turned on his heel to walk out of the meeting chambers. They were not going to do anything as far Exodus could tell. They wanted to prove him wrong. It was on-going thing with the council and some of the Masters in the Order.

Exodus shook his head. It was not the time to mull over the council and their biases.

He quickly made his way to the underground level of the main entrance hall. On his way, Exodus had to weave past apprentices and fighters alike. It was as if he were moving through a school of unaware fish while the predator lurked just around the bin. He wanted to scream and shout about the oncoming attack, but felt that panic and chaos would be just what the enemy would have ordered to separate the weak from the strong.

Exodus found himself standing at a closed door at the end of one of the off shooting corridors on the underground level.

He took a deep breath and knocked.

Slowly, the door opened, revealing an extensive training room unbeknownst to most on Order grounds.

"Master Faro," Exodus bowed slightly to show respect to the master Mage in the room.

Master Faro was a slender and tall man who stood proud. He was intelligent, yet calculating in what he said and did as if he were judging reactions instead of trying to get a reaction. He wore black robes lined with grey, giving him the presence of being a shadow. His short silver hair was laid neatly on top of his head and he bore a welcoming smile to Exodus.

"My dear friend!" Faro bellowed. His jovial voice carried in the nearly empty training room. "What brings you to my lair?"

Exodus stepped into the light as he took side glances at the shadows around the room. "I am here to discuss some important matters with you," said Exodus.

The jovialness in the room faded quickly and it quickly became the natural undertone of the room once again, dark.

"What kind of matters?" Faro tapped his fingers on his chair.

"Matters on the placement of one or both of my apprentices and the coming of the Solian Order," Exodus was not happy to discuss where his apprentices may lie after the council would 'prove' him wrong, but it needed to be done.

"The time has come, I take it?" Faro inhaled slightly and let it go slowly.

Exodus nodded slowly.

Faro leaned out of the shadows from his chair. Hi face ugly with the magically burned scar on his face. "I can take one and only one," he said, almost with a hint of sadness. "I request Amon as Fey is too innocent for what you are requesting."

"I know she is," Exodus said as he felt tears break to the brim of his eyes.

"Take her to Master Hé Huā," Faro said thoughtfully. "She could mold something delicate into a strong, desirable object."

Exodus frowned at the thought that Faro brought forth. He knew that the shadow master was right, however. Exodus thought briefly on the outcomes that could happen for either of his apprentices.

Neither one would be near each other. Amon would live his life no longer known by the council while Fey would grow stronger with each lesson. Both would suffer greatly from the loss of the other, but it was worth the risk. They would be safe with the other masters while Exodus went on the run.

"Deal," Exodus's eyes held detachment.

Faro leaned back into the shadows. "Very well," he said darkly. "Arrangements shall be made for when the council acts."

Exodus turned to walk out the door.

"Oh, Exodus?"

Exodus barely glanced over his shoulder at Faro.

"I wish you luck."

Exodus briefly nodded and closed the door behind him, never to see Faro again in the light.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been three years since Exodus disappeared from the Order. Three years since Amon was separated from Fey and Faros could see the toll that it was taking on the young man.

Amon had grown more distant with each day. He became less willing to go through with some of the lessons. Then there were times where he flat out refused to learn some of the spells that some of the Masters picked out.

As much as Faros was attached to the boy, he could not bring himself to help. Amon needed to learn to grow without Fey. He needed a separate identity so that the council would not recognize the apprentice.

Faros studied Amon as the apprentice stood calmly in the middle of the room.

In the recent days, Faros could have sworn that Amon was locking away all emotion. A dangerous decision on all parts.

A lightning bolt flashed across the room and Amon stepped to the side, avoiding it completely. A fireball emerged from a shadowy corner. Amon threw up a hand, blocking the fiery attack. The fireball dispersed in thin air. The room was clouded in shadows once again.

Amon opened his eyes.

The moonlight color illuminated from the darkness surrounding Amon's face.

From the quiet of the room came a buzzing noise. It was light and barely audible, but noticeable. Faros watched intently as he watched Amon look from his left then to his right. Faros noticed that Amon was subtly pointing in the directions that the attacks had come from. Several soft thuds erupted Faros from his concentration.

The Shadow Master snapped his fingers. Fire appeared just above one of them. He picked up a candle next to him and lit it with his firefinger. He stood and walked around the room, paying attention to where the thuds had sounded.

The candle only illuminated so much in the dark, but it was enough for Faros to see one of the two other apprentices laying on the floor out cold. Soft snores sounded from his unconscious body.

Faros gave an amused smile to the sleeping apprentice.

He turned back to his throne of sorts. He sat down and motioned for the others to light the torches.

Once the room was lit, Faros could see the damage caused by the lightning bolt from the second apprentice.

Several others came into view and picked up the sleeping forms and took them out of the room.

"Well done, Amon," Faros said, pride swelling in his voice. "Excellent use of a non-lethal spell to combat the lethal. I'm impressed."

Amon stood unchanged from earlier.

Faros gave a small sigh.

The Shadow Master stood from his throne and slowly made his way to Amon until he was standing directly in front of him.

"Get some rest. Tomorrow the council will meet and decide on a preparation plan," Faros said softly. He watched as Amon turned on his heel. All feeling of hope drained from Faros as his most prized apprentice walked out the door.

* * *

"They should _not_ have been in the library to begin with," Eldeen spat.

"It was three years ago," Gregior responded coldly. "We cannot hold that against them now."

"Not until _both_ show themselves," Nikell said gruffly.

Vicktor heaved a sigh. After all of his research and evidence, the council was still focused on the past. He grew frustrated each day with it, but today was a particularly bad day for this conversation.

"Why don't we focus on the issue at hand?" He said irritably. "The Solians have finally come out of hiding and are invading our home through means of disguise. It's unlike them to go that far without justifiable cause."

The elder council members frowned at Vicktor.

"Yes, three apprentices discovered the first Solian in the library. We get it. It's the first piece of information that started my campaign. It's time to move on from that," Vicktor's head hurt. "I've discovered at least twenty more hiding in caverns and small huts across the plains and small forested areas. Each party is ready to attack on command."

Eldeen was the first to speak, "And what is your plan, Vicktor?"

 _Condescending_ , Vicktor spat in his mind. "We need to infiltrate them," he said evenly. "Do we have any masters that are talented in that area?"

Vicktor grew concerned as the elders looked at one another with a tinge of fear in their eyes. He could have sworn that the room grew darker and colder with each second that they wasted not saying anything.

Vicktor suddenly felt as if someone were watching him. It was a cold feeling. He felt the end was right around the corner and he needed to seize it.

"Don't say 'no,'" said Vicktor with a smile. "What's his name?"

Eldeen's voice shook, "Faros."

* * *

Author's note:  
Sorry it's been so long. I started this chapter and then lost the flash drive that it was on. However, I do like this version of the chapter a lot better than when I first started it.


	5. Chapter 5

Vicktor walked briskly through the dimly lit corridor. He had never been so nervous in his life. He had a sinking feeling at every turn that someone was watching him. He felt that if he relaxed at any point, whoever was watching would jump from the shadows, pulling him in with them.

Vicktor shuddered at the thought.

The darkness was not something that he intended to be in for very long; or so he hoped.

The elderly Mage turned a corner to find himself facing two young apprentices. They were both built like he had never seen an apprentice built before. He was used to seeing Mages who were unable to lift a stick, but these apprentices were built for much more.

Truth be told, it scared Vicktor to see such physical power in apprentices.

"H-Hello?" Vicktor's voice cracked as it trembled. He stepped into the light of a nearby torch so that he was not in the dark completely. Throwing off someone who could physically break his back was not in his plans for the day.

One of the apprentices slowly turned his head towards Vicktor. His moonlight eyes shined against the shadows of his face.

"I'm here to see M-Master Faros," Vicktor managed to choke out.

Both apprentices looked at one another. The second apprentice gave the moonlight apprentice a brief nod.

 _They're so cold_ , Vicktor realized.

The apprentices stepped aside to reveal a door between the two of them.

Vicktor stepped cautiously over the stone flooring towards the door, looking at both apprentices in the eye before opening the door.

Inside, it was not as bright as Vicktor had hoped. It was only slightly brighter than it was in the hallway. There were hay stuffed people on sticks throughout the room near the walls. Four columns outlined the corners of the room while few torches were spread evenly between the columns. Across from the door, there was an elegant throne that was shrouded in shadow with the silhouette of someone sitting in it.

Vicktor glanced around the room once more as he approached.

Several wooden tables sat along the walls and some apprentices were sitting at them, staring at him.

He heard the door shut behind him and he wheeled around to see the guarding apprentices within the room now. If Vicktor did not know any better, he would have said that this group was expecting him.

A young girl placed a chair in the middle of the room. She glanced at Vicktor, giving him a dark glare.

"Please," a voice from the shadows said. "Take a seat."

Vicktor nervously took a seat. He felt the stare that he felt in the corridor earlier. It was colder than before and darker.

"What brings you down to my dungeon?" the voice from the shadows was cold.

Vicktor gulped as he saw the movement from the corners of his eyes. "I-I, er, the council n-needs your help with an urgent matter," Vicktor managed to get out.

He felt the air around him get colder.

The owner of the voice appeared from the shadows of the throne. It was quick so that Vicktor could not process it properly. The owner of the voice narrowed his eyes and scowled deeply.

"What could the council possibly want?" the shadowy Mage said evenly.

Vicktor sat stunned at the sight of Master Faros out of the shadows. The man was tall and thin, but well-built more so than Vicktor originally imagined. Vicktor also did not take into account that Faros would have been older.

"Solians have been spotted near Dragonmount," Vicktor said, trying to be calm.

Faros raised an eyebrow, "They were spotted three years ago and the council did nothing. Why should I help now?" Faros's emotions were giving way. He could not help it. He was bound by his word to a good friend that he would protect his prodigy from going back. Faros saw that he had no choice, but he had to try no matter how irrational it was.

"They're making their move and we have no way of finding information on where they will strike first," Vicktor said calmly. "We need you to infiltrate their stronghold and bring us the information."

Vicktor was hopeful enough that he was squirming in the chair. Faros held back a sadistic smile.

"What do I get out of it?" Faros asked.

"Recognition?" Vicktor gave a weary smile.

Faros felt his anger go over his boiling point. He grabbed the chair that Vicktor sat in and forced it backward so that the council Mage was looking up at Faros's upside down face. Faros's piercing emerald eyes bore into Vicktor's soft brown eyes and into the council Mage's soul.

Vicktor tried to look away from Faros only to find a pair of piercing moonlight eyes staring back at him intently. They almost smiled amusedly at Vicktor's predicament. Vicktor turned back to look at Faros.

" _Recognition_?" Faros spat. "You think I want recognition from you?"

Vicktor nearly shrunk to the floor from the chair he was given.

"I don't need your recognition," Faros said as he let the chair thump back to its original upright place.

"Then, what would you have?" Vicktor asked timidly.

Faros paused for a moment before answering. "Nothing," the shadowed master replied calmly.

Vicktor was in disbelief. _Nothing?_ The Shadow Master wanted nothing in return for helping the council. Not even recognition. Vicktor's mind reeled with questions and suspicions. _What does he really want?_ He wondered.

"Tell the council I'll lend them some of my best students," Faros said. Vicktor gave an appreciative nod and turned to leave.

"Vicktor."

Vicktor stopped in mid step as he was right next to the door.

"If any of the council members should use any of my students irresponsibly, I _will_ come after them," Faros smiled wickedly. "And they will never see me coming."

Vicktor's heart rose to his throat and he hurried to get out of the dungeon-esk room. He needed to get back to the council to let them know of the news. He also needed to get away from the moonlight.

* * *

"We cannot commence the meeting until Vicktor gets here," Gregior spat at Eldeen and Nikell. Both elder masters were arguing on how to go about infiltrating the Solians if Vicktor did not return.

"He should have been here by now," Eldeen said irritably. "He's obviously not, which means Faros surprised him, and we cannot wait any longer."

Gregior heaved a sigh.

"And we cannot count on Faros to be constantly on our side," Nikell pushed.

Gregior gave both masters a glare, "You think that Faros would turn against us just because we sit and wait on things?"

Eldeen and Nikell looked at one another before nodding.

"I've known Faros since he was a student," Gregior's temper was beginning to show. "He has a loyalty like no other and it doesn't stop in the Order. It precedes to balance."

Eldeen gave Gregior a skeptical look.

"We can trust him."

The door opened with a soft creak, revealing a disheveled Vicktor.

All three council members stopped talking and looked at the young member expectantly. Vicktor stumbled to the opposite end of the table so that he was facing the council members. Eldeen took notice of the fear written across Vicktor's face.

Gregior leaned forward, anticipating a confirmation that Faros was in.

"Do _not_ let him be alone with me. _Ever_ ," Vicktor breathed heavily.

"Is he willing to help?" Gregior's patience was wearing thin.

"Yes," Vicktor said solemnly. He downcasted his eyes before looking back up at the council. "But he vises against using his students inappropriately." Vicktor did not realize how dark his voice had gotten until he looked at Eldeen's shocked face.

Vicktor held his head down.

"I figured there would be a catch," Gregior said thoughtfully.

"What does he mean by 'inappropriately'?" Nikell snapped.

Gregior merely shrugged as he paced a little in his spot at the table.

"We'll need to split the students up carefully. Some will go in pairs while others will go alone. They will go infiltrate each Solian hideout, meeting and whatever else they can find. Gather information and bring it to us. If any student is caught or killed, we report it to Faros immediately," Gregior was deep in thought.

"If we do that, surely Faros would have our heads," Eldeen stated, fear just touching her voice.

"No, he won't," Gregior responded quickly. "We'll be using his students fairly and to our advantage. Each loss to Faros is reported to him."

"What of the Solians in the library?" Vicktor asked.

Gregior stopped pacing and thought for a moment. "We'll have to have one of Faros's students down there with some of our best. Faros will choose."

Vicktor nodded his head.

"Yet, the library can wait until the Solians make their move first," said Nikell before Gregior could interrupt.

"Agreed," Eldeen inputted. "The longer we can put off Faros losing a favored apprentice in utmost certainty, the better."

Gregior closed his mouth at the decision. Once Nikell and Eldeen made up their minds, there was usually no changing them. He turned to Vicktor and gave him a nod to signal that the plan was set even if it was not very detailed.

Vicktor nodded in understanding and left without another word to the council.


	6. Chapter 6

Amon stared at Hubert as the other apprentice twisted his fingers to form a pearl looking orb in mid-air. Amon took note of the smirk that placed itself on Hubert's face. Hubert was arrogant, to a fault. He never knew when to stop showing off.

Amon half yawned as he muttered a phrase and flicked his wrist lightly. A dim, white light appeared in multiples, almost like darts. Amon merely pointed at Hubert. The darts rushed forward, hitting Hubert solidly, causing Hubert to be knocked to the ground.

A scream erupted into the empty room and through the halls.

Amon allowed a smirk to play on his lips and then shook his head quickly. The pain of others was enjoyable, but it disturbed him to think it. His mind was going and he knew it. Yet, it did not stop him from trying to remain normal as a Mage could be in impending war time.

He took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Amon."

Amon looked over his shoulder to see Faros's stern face. Amon looked at Hubert, guessing that was the cause for the trouble Amon was about to be in. The apprentice made his way towards Faros without a glance in the Master's eyes.

Faros directed Amon to a private room.

Amon watched closely as Faros closed the door behind the two of them. Amon tensed as he sensed that it was definitely just him and Faros in the dim room. Amon quickly glanced around to find that there was a small round table in the middle of the room with only two chairs.

"The council wants some of your classmates to infiltrate the Solians," Faros started as he sat in one of the two chairs. Amon sat in the other chair across from Faros. "Each infiltrating apprentice will be under my direction."

"Why are you telling me this?" Amon asked.

Faros gave a small sigh. "Because you are doing something more important that I would like to specifically train you for," Faros looked directly into Amon's eyes. He watched patiently as Amon searched his eyes for anything that could betray Faros's intentions.

"What kind of job is it?" Amon asked, then quickly added, "Besides an important one."

Faros held back an amused smirk at his apprentice.

"The Order needs something a little extra in Mage support other than the typical spells and skills," Faros said. "I need you to be that extra power for them."

Amon searched Faros's eyes for some kind of indication that he was joking or messing with Amon with a sick sense of humor. Needless to say, Amon found nothing. The apprentice held back any signs of frustration of not going out into the field with some of the other apprentices.

"Where am I going to be placed?"

"The library."

* * *

Jacques eyed the 'mysterious' apprentice cautiously. He did not trust him and the apprentice certainly did not trust anyone else. There was just something off about the apprentice's appearance and personality.

"Pheonix?" Jacques whispered to the nearly naked woman beside him.

The less clothed Mage gave Jacques a bored look once she looked up from her spell book. Her fiery eyes never once giving away any kind of caring thought.

"What's the story behind the apprentice?" Jacques asked cautiously. He was afraid that she might explode in anger at anything really.

Pheonix shrugged. "Don't ask me. One of the Council said that he was coming along and to not really interact with him. If you're that curious, go ask yourself." Her tone was monotone as she peered back down at her spell book.

Jacques narrowed his eyes at her, but did not reply.

He got up and slowly moved across the large study area of the massive library. He leaned against one of the desks and crossed his arms. He eyed the young apprentice, watching his every move.

What Jacques expected to find, he did not know. Yet, it was worth the observation to try and figure out his fellow comrades that he would be fighting next to.

From what was already apparent, the young apprentice kept to himself most of the time. Not very talkative, he was mysterious in a way. He almost seemed boring if one did not pay close attention to the small movements that the apprentice made.

Each flinch that Jacques picked up on was subtle. It indicated that he was not used to being in a full party. Which meant, to Jacques, that the young apprentice was hiding something. What that was, Jacques did not know.

Jacques sunk into a nearby bench and snuggled into his blanket. He knew there was nothing that he could do to show that the apprentice was a threat. He decided that whatever he was going to find out could wait until the morning.

* * *

Ethamor peered down the hallway, trying to see anything moving against the dark.

The only thing he could see was a soft purple glow in front of a large column.

He glanced back at his commanding Father and the fighting party with him. Father Igor nodded to Ethamor, giving him the go-ahead.

Ethamor took in a sharp breath as he rounded the corner. He slowly pulled out his morning star from its belt loop. A light metal on metal scraping sounded as the holding rings slid on the handle of the morning star.

He strained his eyes down the dark hall.

He tried to quietly make his way down the hall, but his chainmail armor clinked against the full plate steel on his legs and arms. He heard the echo of the others' armor as they moved without a word.

Once they were about midway down the hall, Ethamor stopped suddenly. The other clerics almost bowled him over in their hurried stop.

"Ethamor," Father Igor hissed.

The mid-aged cleric felt his eyes go wide.

Father Igor hissed again, "Ethamor."

Ethamor simply shook his head slowly. Father Igor narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He pushed his way through two of the younger clerics before stopping short.

The Father's eyes widened as well.

A faint orange-yellow glow was down the hall. It illuminated most of the dark hall so that the clerics could see the intricate stone work of the walls. To one side they saw a large set of double doors. The design on the doors was shadowed, but one could still make out the elegant pipe work of the leaves and swirling vines.

Ethamor tore his sight away from the glow as something brighter caught his eye.

They were as bright as the sun with a slit down the center of each one. Ethamor instantly thought that they were illusions created by the Order members that were down in the library. The priest thought better of that idea when the orbs immediately disappeared and then reappeared. It was then that he realized that it was no conjuring of magic; instead it was –

"Dragon!" called out one of the clerics. The terror behind the cry was heart stopping.

Father Igor watched in horror as the young cleric turned tail and ran in the opposite direction.

A low growl echoed through the halls.

Ethamor found that he could not move. He was paralyzed. He did not want to think it was fear that was keeping him still, but he knew better. His heart was racing and he quickly thought of all the outcomes from confronting a dragon, even unwillingly.

His chances were very slim to none.

Ethamor sent out a quick prayer to Sol, hoping to see the Sun in the afterlife. He asked for forgiveness in perishing in the dark. He felt warmth reach his heart from his stomach. It was then that he knew that Sol was listening in on his desire.

The warmth soon became unbearably hot as if Ethamor were standing right in a fire. The Solian priest opened his eyes to see red-orange and yellow flames engulfing him. The warmth was not just emotional and mental heat, it was physical. The dragon was burning them alive.

Ethamor felt no pain. He was at peace at how he was dying. It was a symbol to him. He was born in the heat of summer, under a dragon's attack, therefore, he felt it fitting to die by dragon's fire.

The Solian took a deep calming breath as he stared into the dragon's fiery eyes.

The corner of Ethamor's lips raised into a smile of defiance.

The fiery orbs of the dragon and its roar were the last thing Ethamor heard and saw before his world went black.


	7. Chapter 7

Approximately 1690 SA

" _Yesterday is but today's memory, and tomorrow is today's dream." – Khalil Gibran_

Master Scar eyed the lich carefully as it waved its fingers through the air delicately. He often wondered about what it was like to live centuries beyond one's time. Scar knew what it was like to be frozen in a point and to sleep in a way. He knew how the frozen people must feel or will feel once released.

"There. Now wait," the scratchy voice of the lich broke into Master Scar's thoughts.

"Like there's much else to do," Ash mumbled.

Scar could not help but smirk at the temperament of his apprentice. She would not have survived in this stance in the library as the others seem to have.

"So…" a small voice carried out in the vast room to the other members of the Order. "What would be a good reason to keep any of these oldies around?"

Scar watched as Ash threw Dhozer, the small voice, a nasty scowl.

"Master Tarheel?" Scar said turning to the lich.

If the dark creature could smile, it would have been devious smile. It was uncomforting to see something like that on an undead creature.

"Most are useful in a peace time. Could teach you things of the Order that you would have never expected beyond wildest dreams," the raspy voice of the former Master said. "This one," he pointed a bony finger to a young apprentice with moonlight eyes, "Has held secrets many do not know."

There was that smile-esk expression again.

Scar frowned. He was not interested in secrets, especially those that the Order might have kept. Every organization had them and he accepted that. Yet, Tarheel was older, wiser, and undead. The former Master would have a definite ulterior motive for releasing one of the Members of the Head from their stasis prison.

"What kind of secrets?" Dhozer's voice went up an octave, if that was even possibly for the gnome.

Ash scoffed, "As if you could keep it, thief."

Dhozer frowned at the subtle insult. "Hey, I'm a better thief now."

"No," Ash said, raising a hand in the air. "You're a better fighter."

Scar pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Ash. Dhozer." Both froze at the tone of Scar's voice. "There is no need to squabble between one another. None of us are… _prepared_ for what may come."

Scar turned back to face the stasis people. A couple of mages, several fighters, and a cleric of Felicia. He thought for a moment as he stared at one of the apprentices.

There was something about the moonlight colored eyes that made a chill go down Scar's spine. They were seemingly full of life, yet they were distant and guarded from everything. Tarheel was ultimately telling the truth; this mage held secrets. Whether or not those secrets were something no one in the Order could imagine was debatable until told.

"I need to mediate," Scar finally said as he moved away from the unnerving apprentice.

Ash watched as her master sauntered over to the opposite side of the library away from the centuries old people. He seemed different than normal. It was like something was weighing on his mind.

Most days she would not care, however, she was bound to the man.

"Master?" she said quietly as she approached Scar. She was certain that Scar was not in a good mood, whether it was towards her or towards the situation she could not be certain.

Scar merely gave Ash a raised eyebrow to indicate that he was listening.

"What happens when this…apprentice…is out of stasis?" she was careful in using the word loosely.

Master Scar gave a small sigh, "I do not know, Ash. I'm not even sure that releasing one of these people from their time prison is such a good idea. There are too many factors into how they can react to certain things or people and if they can get past the culture shock."

Ash glanced back over her shoulder at the stasis mage.

She narrowed her eyes to go over the detail of the young man again. She wanted to engrain his image in her mind so that she could determine his weaknesses and anything that could alert her to trouble.

It was then that she saw his irises move towards her.

She held in a gasp as she continued to stare at him.

There was something not right about the way he was looking at her. There was almost no emotion. Almost. Ash took note of the hatred that lay hidden beneath the cold demeanor of the surface.

She quickly turned back to her master.

"I have a bad feeling about this," she said before walking away.

Master Scar opened one eye and looked in the direction of the young mage being brought into another time. He took notice of what he thought his apprentice saw. Master Scar decided that he would have to keep a close eye on this one to make sure that Ash was not hurt.

* * *

Darkness.

It was familiar to him.

Light.

He did not trust it.

Air. He took a greedy breath of air and began to cough. Too much. Too musty. Where was he?

He opened his eyes slowly as to not induce a headache right away.

Books. Lots of shelves filled with books. Cobwebs were decorative features on some of the shelves and in the corners of the room. Then he saw them. The people. Frozen in time. Doing exactly what he remembered them doing before freezing himself.

Something was wrong.

He shot up from his lying down position.

When did he lie down?

He mumbled something under his breath. He felt his hand surge with a familiar electrical tendril. He pushed off of the ground with his none electrified hand and studied the room.

Across the way were several Mages. Two standing and one sitting. One of the two standing had on light blue robes, fashioned in a monkish style. He was bald with remnants of beginning a beard. The other one standing was female with little to no clothing. Her short fiery red hair gave her nature away.

He felt hate swell inside of him. He slowly took a breath as to calm himself.

Then he noticed the scars on their faces. Order members.

The one sitting was unlike the other two with him. He was slender, not overly muscled, but defined enough to make him a challenge physically. His long silver hair was slicked back and hung passed his shoulders. He wore ornate robes that were different shades of red.

Out of all three Mages, the older looking one had the nastiest scar on his face that looked more physically induced than that of the spell induced scarred Mages around him.

"Amon…" a raspy voice echoed silently around him.

His moonlight eyes scanned the room analytically as he worked to keep his emotions down.

"Welcome back…"

The voice was familiar, yet so vastly different than what he remembered.

Amon narrowed his eyes. "Tarheel…?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the slender Mage stand and take a step towards him.

Amon readied himself. The older Mage stopped in his tracks.

Amon frowned as he saw the female Solarmancer whisper something to the older Mage. She nodded towards the bald man, who stepped forward at the obvious signal.

Amon allowed a scoff to escape his lips.

"Hello. My name is Breeze," the bald man said as he bowed low once he approached Amon at a safe distance. "My colleague," he motioned for the female to step forward, "here is Ash."

Pause. Waiting for a response no less.

Amon obliged with a questioning look.

"We're Scarred Order members such as yourself."

Breeze's words were careful. Amon smirked on the inside as he mustered a blank stare at the man in front of him.

"You've been in stasis for a very long-"

"How long?" Amon finally said. A bit demanding, but it was worth it to see the man and the Solarmancer take a step back in surprise. The older Mage, however, did not step back.

"Nineteen hundred years…"

Amon faltered at the answer from the raspy voice.

The young Mage felt his breath catch in his throat. He choked at the realization that he had missed out on everything. He felt tears begin to sting his eyes and it took everything in him to hold them back.

"Lies…" he managed to mutter in a dark tone. He knew it was not. Why would these people lie to him? He had no idea on who they were and least of all, they had no idea on who he was.

"You know that to not be true," the older Mage finally spoke and stepped forward. His voice was different. It had an underlying accent that Amon was used to. It was much like his, only older. Much older.

Amon willed the tears to not come and stay in their place. He gave the older Mage a defiant look. The older Mage loomed over him, but only barely. Amon knew it to be a scar tactic, to break him.

"Possibly," Amon's voice held as much boldness as his eyes.

Amon heard someone taking a slight step back. Possibly in fear.

The older Mage held Amon's gaze for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. It was not evil nor was it really joyous. It was amused.

"You're not what I expected," the older Mage finally said. "I am Master Scar, head of the order. You have met my right hand, Breeze, and my apprentice, Ash." Scar eyed Amon carefully, waiting for a reaction. "You can trust them," the Master said as he saw the flash of mistrust cross the young apprentice's face.

"It's not them that I don't trust," Amon gave Ash a hard stare. "It's her god."

Breeze stepped in front of Ash. "She's not among His ranks per se. She recognizes Sargon as her sole god," he said. Protectiveness entered in his voice.

Amon gave the bald man a small smile, "She may do that, however, he still holds power over her. How do you think she gets her power?" Amon began to pace.

"You never mentioned his calculation, Tarheel," Master Scar said in a light scolding manner.

Amon remained passive at the mention of a former Master that he knew. The raspy voice. It was Tarheel and Amon knew that the former Master had done what he set out to do. He had lengthened his life span…as a lich.

The air in the library became cold and still.

It was a warning to Amon and no one else.

Amon knew better than to challenge the library's master. He brought his stance into a passive mode and took a deep breath in. He let out his breath slowly, feeling all of the emotions drain out of him. He looked towards Scar and the two Mages beside him.

Each seemed calmer as soon as Amon released himself from tension. Good. He had control. Just what he liked.

"If you'll follow me, we'll get you connected with the new time period," Master Scar said, unfazed.

Amon knew he was going to have trouble with the head of the Order.

* * *

"There's something wrong with him," Breeze said, anger flushing against his normally flowing nature.

"You must give him time," Master Scar said with a bored tone. He was tired of this conversation. They had just met Amon and his two most trusted people were already against the idea of having the Second Age Mage on the Mount.

"Time?" Ash scoffed. "How much time do we give him to – oh, I don't know – kill me in my sleep?" Scar almost flinched at her anger. She was becoming dangerous.

"Mages cannot assassinate. You know that," Scar tried to assure her. Both Master and apprentice stared at one another; neither one believing the words that came out of Scar's mouth.

Scar instantly regretted saying it as he did not truly know. Amon was from a different time than he was. For one, Amon was much younger than Scar and from a younger time period. Scar also noted that the new, or rather old, member was from a war driven period. Scar had no idea on what Amon was capable of other than preparation and detachment.

"If you insist on keeping him around," Breeze interrupted the moment with a sigh. "Then we'll need to keep a close eye on him. He's not taken to Ash that much we can _all_ agree upon."

Master Scar gave a brief nod of agreement.

"Until we can figure out who and what he is within the Order, keep him away from me," Ash's demand was silently heard as she walked out of the room.

"You can't, can you?" Breeze asked once he felt Ash was out of ear shot.

"Not necessarily," Scar said, linking his fingers together in thought. "To get Amon used to this time period, I must force him out of Dragonmount. He needs to see what has changed," Scar thought aloud.

"You're talking a major culture shock here," Breeze's voice carried worry.

"Yes," Scar's thoughts trailed off. "Yet, he exhibits emotional control like I have never seen before. He's more capable of handling change than I was when Ash found me."

Scar watched as Breeze's eyes shifted in thought. He often wondered how the man managed to think with his thought process flowing like tornado winds.

"As much as I think you're taking an unnecessarily dangerous risk, I respect your judgement and your ability to give chances," Breeze said barely above a whisper.

The Aeromancer took a low bow to the head Mage and exited the room.

Master Scar exhaled a sigh that he was holding in. He began to take in what had been said in his study. And he hoped that he was right in his decision.

 _There's something wrong with him_. _Mages cannot assassinate_.


End file.
